


It's in the DNA, baby

by finite_incantatum



Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of italics, Awkward Sexual Situations, Couch Sex, Lack of experience, M/M, Pre-Lizard transformation, Underage Character, Wary use of science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finite_incantatum/pseuds/finite_incantatum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on the Amazing Spider-Man Kinkmeme. "Peter goes to visit Dr.Connors at his home with the intention of seducing him to get the information he seeks. Though, with his lack of experience (adorable, bashfulness), Connors easily deduces his intentions and turns the tables, and instead it is Peter who is divulging information. Also, sex." Only I made Peter a little more unaware that he was seducing the Doc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's in the DNA, baby

Peter’s eating his cereal when Aunt May pats him on the shoulder. He winces, but quickly masks his pain by jerking his arm and dropping his spoon on the table with a loud clunk. She’s too preoccupied with what’s on the news to notice.

The Lizard on the bridge, shredding through cars like paper to find the man he’s looking for, that twitchy man at Oscorp with the suspiciously familiar file.

“I’ve never seen anything so beastly, but so human. What on earth could create such a horrible creature?” Aunt May looks on at the TV with pity, not fear, as Peter would’ve expected. And that’s when a bell goes off in his head. _Human. Beast. Part human. Cross-species._

He shuts off the TV before it zooms in to point out Spider-Man even though he knows that she’s already aware of his existence. “Aunt May you’re a genius!” he says with a mouthful of cheerios.

The chair scrapes against the floor as he quickly gets up, dropping the spoon into the bowl, pecks his aunt on the cheek, grabs his backpack and is out the door before she can even think of a response.

She eventually just shakes her head and picks up the bowl. “I swear, that boy never cleans up after himself.”

He knows Gwen won’t be happy that he’s missing school, but she’ll understand. She always understands.

He has his suit and web-shooters safely tucked into his backpack for safe keeping and he boldly approaches Dr. Connors’ porch. First, ringing the doorbell, then when there’s no response, he knocks continuously.

“Alright, alright, but this better not be-” Connors looks on at him as if he’s sprung a new limb. Ha. Ha. “Peter?”

“Hiya, Doc” Peter gives his million-dollar smile and it takes a moment for Connors to regain his composure and stand aside to let Peter in.

“Don’t you have school?” Peter can practically hear Connors thinking; the cogs working in his head trying to calculate why he’s visiting his house again when they clearly agreed to meet at the tower. It’d be too rude to say.

Peter lies, “free trial.” Shrugging for effect. It seems to work though as Connors motions him into the living room.

“Come, sit. Tea?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” When Connors leaves the room, Peter quickly darts his eyes, scrutinizing every paper or file that might look out of place. He feels around the couch cushions and almost cuts his finger on a sharp file. He pulls it out carefully and opens it.

The formula he gave Connors is highlighted at the top and then there are more formulas beneath it. Notes about human DNA, neuroscience, mutations, and there’s one DNA code on the bottom that Peter doesn’t recognize. It’s part human, but the other part is unfamiliar to him. _DNA splicing? That doesn’t seem right_.

“Peter?”

Peter feels his heart thump against his rib-cage and quickly drops the file on the carpet and as Connors approaches, kicks it under the couch. _Relax, he didn’t see anything._ He extends his hand and takes the tea with a smile, but recoils when a bit spills over the rim and onto his already shaking hand. He drops the cup back on the tray, instantly bringing his hand to his mouth and suckling on the reddish welt.

“Oh, dear, sorry, I forgot to put ice in it.”

“No problem” Peter smiles again and notices the way Connors looks down at his good arm as if scolding it for being useless. “Honestly, it’s no biggie, Doc.”

But Connors heads for the freezer and pulls out a frozen sauce packet, he hands it to Peter, carefully avoiding brushing their fingers, but it happens anyway, as these things do. Peter feels a strange twinge and wonders if Connors felt something off him as well. No change in expression, however.

Peter cradles the packet to his hand and scoots over to allow Connors to sit admittedly quite far from him. His mind wanders for a moment, curious why his fingertips respond like static electricity around the Doc, why he feels drawn to him almost suddenly. _No, not suddenly_. It was there before, when Connors waited for him on the stoop. “We did it” he had reassured Peter, cradling Fred, the mouse, gingerly.

Peter, Doc, Freddy, they all shared something.

“So, what is that you needed at such an early hour?”

Peter takes notice of how Connors isn’t wearing his glasses, he can assume contacts, unless the glasses he wears are for reading only. The light in his blue eyes catches in a way that’s sickly cliche, but sickly sweet. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and Peter’s fingers tingle as if he’s just smoothed his thumb across Connor’s scruffy chin.

Connors clears his throat. Peter apologizes, mentally slaps himself and quickly covers his odd behavior with a question. “I just wanted to know more about how splicing human DNA with animal DNA would affect the human subject’s behavior?”

Looking taken aback at the question, Connors gathers his wits about him. “Well- crossing DNA doesn’t even guarantee host survival. But if the host is strong, the animal DNA won’t disrupt the host’s psychological balance much like the chemical. DNA replication might be inconsequential and if so the host’s temperament will remain unchanged.”

Peter nods, scooting a tad closer to Connors, practically feeling the heat radiating from his leg. Connors either doesn’t pretend to notice or is too preoccupied to care.

“So you’re saying that the human is unlikely to even survive the procedure?”

“Why are you asking?” Connors raises a curious eyebrow.

“I-uh- Fred! He survived the procedure, but I was wondering if he’s psychologically you know- stable.”

Connor makes a face, one of concentration and doubt. “Ah, yes. So far, no abnormalities have been recorded. He’s as healthy a mouse as at birth.”

Peter proceeds, but his palms are sweating and he’s worried that his plan may not work the more he stalls. Also becoming increasingly nervous, like he does when he knows he’s falling behind in all his classes.

“I- I’d also like to thank you”

“For what, exactly?” Connors takes an almost forced sip of his tea, not willing his eyes to stray from Peter, as if still suspicious.

“For being there when my Uncle died” Peter swallows a scalding gulp, just to distract himself from the heat in his stomach. _Nervous? Not even when I’m dangling hundreds of feet off the ground. Not Spider-Man._

“There’s no reason why friends shouldn’t protect those they care for dearly.”

Peter chokes on his next gulp and Connors seems alarmed at first, but his hand is on Peter’s back and he’s smacking him forcefully and then the hand becomes a steady, warm weight. It’s resting on his back, but the warmth is gone when Peter looks back at Connors’ face, searching for that weird connection again.

Connors is looking down at the coffee table in faux fascination and watches with his peripheral vision as Peter places the tea and sauce packet down.

“Are you sure you have no school today, Peter?”

Trying to resist another choking episode, Peter steadily speaks, “why do you ask?”

“Well, your aunt hasn’t called to check up on you, like she usually does. One of the reasons she might not call is because she thinks you’re in school-?”

 _Busted._ “Actually, she called just before I got here, she doesn’t always call when there are witnesses around.” Peter laughs and Connors cracks a seemingly genuine smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ever since you’ve come here, you’ve been acting very strange. I can sense you’re hiding something very important from me Peter, and I’m becoming more and more curious.”

Connors’ hand is suddenly on his shoulder and _oh god, why am I being reduced to a puddle of goo? He’s obviously an authority figure, and I don’t like authority. That must be it. And why does he say my name so many times when he’s stern? And why the hell do I feel all tingly?_

Then, Peter’s mind goes blank, he almost wills it blank because for a hysterical second he’s convinced that Connors has mind-reading powers.

“Peter. I know you were looking at the file I stored under the cushions. It’s now under the couch itself is it not?”

“Curiosity killed the spider” Peter mutters under his breath, now certain that Connors obtained x-ray vision.

“Haven’t heard it quite like that before.” Connors must have acute hearing too and Peter stares at him dumbfounded, even more so when the hand on his shoulder ghosts to his jaw and rests there for a moment before. It’s a risky move, they both know it and Peter doesn’t feel creeped out as he should be, uncomfortable maybe, but his spidey-sense is idle. _There’s no danger here. Right?_

“Are you keeping something from me Peter?” _I like the way you say my name._

Finding himself nodding automatically, Peter wants to reprimand himself for losing self control. _What is going on?_

“Don’t hold it back.” Connors’ mouth. Next to his ear. Next. To. His. Ear. _Goosebumps,_ _goddamn goosebumps._

Realizing that Connors isn’t planning on making the first move either out of respect or purely legal reasons, Peter tilts his head and hesitantly catches Connors’ lips. He’s on autopilot and he can’t stop.

The earl grey tea might be bitter and slightly overpowering, but the aroma of Connors’ after-shave, his sweat, it wafts pleasantly into Peter’s nostrils and encourages him to exhale and deepen the kiss. Connors’ arm snakes around his waist, but carefully, as if leaving space for him to flee. _Like that’s even gonna happen._

Peter is sad to see the other arm hanging limply at his side and he traces above where the elbow should’ve been and under the sleeve. Connors tenses for a second, but relaxes when Peter’s fingers trace along his muscle. _For a Doc, he’s pretty fit_.

Gaining confidence, Peter grabs for the back of Connors’ neck, searching for sensitive areas. When Connors’ hand dips, skimming over his slightly exposed back with his shirt riding up, Peter shudders with excitement without really meaning to.

Connors seems intrigued by the reaction and the moan that Peter so obviously suppresses with his lips disappearing between his teeth. It should be strange for Peter to have his father’s friend’s tongue in his mouth, but it feels so new, so good. It could also be the hand mapping out the dips and curves of his spine, like fire that’s overbearing but not quite scalding hot.

 _More. More_. “More” Peter finds himself saying, taking a handful of Connors’ sleep-shirt and pulling at it stubbornly. He’s not sure what he’s asking for but he knows he wants it.

There’s a nagging feeling of uncertainty.

It’s obvious that Connors senses his hesitation so he grasps Peter’s erection, straining in his jeans. His ribs creaking, body tensing , Peter gasps and squeezes the muscle beneath his hands, digging fingernails into the skin, but not enough to leave lasting marks.

Connors finds Peter’s hand and inches it under his own waistband. Peter finds a warm, thick cock and when Connors squeezes his wrist, he pumps the warm flesh in his hand, leaving the Doc gasping for breath.

It’s an invitation- Peter lies back and pulls Connors, who unceremoniously lands on top of him with the obvious effort of not falling into a heap on the carpet. They shift their limbs and Connors soon has Peter’s shirt bunching at his armpits and is kissing lower.

Peter lets out these breathy moans every time lips graze his navel and Connors basks in these sounds, seeing if they’ll duly intensify when he goes below the belt. He has Peter’s shoes off and jeans bunched at his ankles, but not without almost getting a knee in the face.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry” Peter squeaks, blushes all kinds of scarlet.

“Not a problem” Connors says into his hip and Peter twitches, realizing he might be a bit ticklish there.

Connors bites his hip and Peter cries out, twitching again. “Fuck! Sorry- sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Peter, it’s fine, just relax.”

Maybe it’s his soothing voice, or that enticing accent of his, but Connors has Peter sated and slowly unraveling before he wraps his lips around the tip of Peter’s cock.

Peter, being a hormonal teenager (bitten by a genetically altered spider), arches his hips. Connors, anticipating his every move, pushes him back down with great strength from his good arm. Peter wonders if that arm holds the strength of both arms, if not greater.

His thoughts explode like confetti when the man’s tongue goes under, around, _every-fucking-where_. Okay, maybe not everywhere, but it’s great.

Peter’s in a close-to-orgasmic haze when the wet warmth is gone and he’s left cold. “Wha-?”

A condom-like packet catches his eye. _And is that lubricant?_ But Connors holds off, seeing how Peter will react.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to.” He clarifies. Bless this man.

“Uh-yeah, I mean... I want to” Peter can swear Connors looks relieved for not going too far too fast. And Peter feels very _wanted and rebellious and fuck, just do it already_.

Peter gazes almost drunkenly as Connors applies lubricant to his fingers, a lot of lube. There’s no reason why he suddenly feels relieved, even a little offended, _will it really hurt that badly?_

The question is gradually answered when Connors nestles comfortably between his legs. He takes one of Peter’s legs and folds it forward with not much effort since the boy’s quite limber, nodding at the other leg and smiling slightly when Peter takes the hint. It’s unsettling, being spread open by a man who’s probably had lifetimes of experience _. Fuck._

Inevitably, Peter opens his big fat mouth and takes Connors by surprise. “Have you done this before?”

Peter doesn’t mean to sound like a virgin but loves the sound of Connors’ chuckle when he takes two fingers, dripping with lube and nudges it _where the sun don’t shine._

Right hand nearly ripping off a strip of the couch coverlet and the other kneading Connors’ back, Peter is thrilled by the sensations, stronger than touch, _burning_ him from the inside.

When Peter thought Connors had forgotten he said anything, “trust me, in University, it’s difficult to resist the need to experiment.”

Peter laughs and grins stupidly, blushing. “You’re a beacon of _wisdom_ , Doc” Connors is- fuck - smirking at him and curling his fingers just, like, that. Peter’s lost count of the fingers now opening him up and it too busy getting acquainted with the stretch that’s becoming more unbearably good by the minute.

Connors is slightly panicked when he see’s a tear in Peter’s eye and wishes he had another hand to swish it away.

“Peter? Are you alright?”

“Peachy-keen” Peter says in a strangled voice, so Connors stops and pulls his fingers out. So Peter has to drop a hint. “Can’t expect me to be silent while you tease me to tears.”

“Oh. _Oh_. I apologize. Didn’t realize you were so eager.”

Peter just stares at him for a moment.

“Christ, sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out- like that.”

It’s when Connors begins fumbling with the condom packet with one unsteady hand that Peter sits up a little and takes his hand and opens it for him.

He slides it onto Connors cock in a way that says he paid attention during sex-education class and the dreaded cucumber demonstration. Grabbing the lube, Peter lathers some between his fingers and takes Connors in hand. “Now who’s being a tease?” Connors responds with sexy disheveled hair and Peter has to insist that this man move before he pins him to the couch and climbs into his lap embarrassingly.

Peter’s mouth is open in an “o”-shape when he feels the breach, slow and easy. He’s surprised at just how easy and _slippery_ it is as first down there and he’s mostly grateful for the preparation.

“Is this alright, Peter? Does it hurt?”

“I’m good, Doc. Pretty sure you’ve prepared me to be fucked by a lube bottle at this rate.”

Connors’ laugh is playful and he probably thinks that if Peter can crack a filthy joke that has his imagination running wild, he must be in the right mind.

One arm stays outstretched and encouraging on Connor’s hip despite the pain becoming more prominent.

Connors is moving and he’s so much thicker and heavier inside than the fingers. Hypersensitive both inside and out, Peter has to hold his breath until the full feeling reaches the limit and Connors’ hips are against his thighs and the thin hairs on their chests are touching.

Then Connors is just sitting there, and Peter wants to kick him to get the momentum back. Using the leverage of his legs around Connors’ waist, he starts to fuck himself against Connors in uncoordinated, mostly hit-and-miss thrusts.

“Naughty” Connor’s breaths, where Peter’s mostly desperate move has him pinning the boy against the couch and _biting_ his jaw. He punishes him with vicious thrusts, grazing his prostate, but not quite hitting it.

“Fuuuck, what is that?” his eyes squeeze shut and Connors’ voice is husky when he says “your exocrine gland, the prostate.”

“Mm, mmm don’t stop, please don’t- ugh” Peter’s brow is gathering sweat like fever and he’s long lost his dignity. It’s nothing that Connors minds, ravishing his lips, sucking on his tongue and enjoying those keen noises as Peter’s body engulfs him with soft warmth and pleasure.

Peter suddenly tenses up and let’s out a desperate cry as sticky liquid covers them both and Connors pushes into him as if close as well.

In a post-orgasmic haze, Peter’s muscles contract and he tightens around Connors’ cock, leaving them both breathless, dragging the orgasm out. “Oh, I’m close, Peter, so good, so good.”

His come pools in the condom soon after and it has Peter regretting that they even used it, wishing and needing that feeling of being filled to last.

Connors makes a few thrusts even though he’s slowly going soft and pulls out and it’s slick and Peter feels so damn empty and wet. The condom makes unpleasant squelching noises and it’s tied off and thrown into a waste-bin. He lands on top of Peter momentarily, then looks up concerned when there’s a pained groan beneath him.

“Are you alright?”

Peter’s body rumbles with his laugh as he catches his breath. “I don’t know, I’ll probably have trouble sitting down in class tomorrow.”

“In that case, you’ll always think of me.” Connors feels guilty, the moment those words come out, but Peter chuckles again and agrees with a hand on Connors’ cheek.

“So worth it,” he says mostly to himself. His either very effective, or ineffective (depending on the stand-point) interrogation tactics that backfired on him leading in rampant sex were so very worth it.


End file.
